Florida never disappoints when it comes to roller coasters, fireworks, and making memories. The one thing that always catches me off guard, though, is the heat. Walking through a Florida theme park in late May feels a little like walking around inside a convection oven. By the end of the week, after several days of back-to-back parks, my step counts were off the charts and every muscle in my body was reminding me exactly how many miles I had covered.

So I decided to treat myself to a massage at a nearby spa.

The spa wasn't located at our resort, which meant I needed to call an Uber. As I waited outside, I found myself reflecting on the week. It had been wonderful. We had laughed, explored, and spent time together in ways that don't always happen during normal life. At the same time, I realized I had drifted away from some of the daily routines.

I don't think that's entirely a bad thing. Vacations are meant to disrupt our routines. They pull us away from schedules and obligations and give us opportunities to experience new things. But I was beginning to miss my mornings. I missed my coffee, my Bible, and the quiet time I spend with God before the rest of the world wakes up. Those moments have become a kind of spiritual armor for me. They don't make God love me any more than He already does, but they help me remember who He is before I face everything else the day may bring.

When the Uber arrived, I climbed into the back seat and immediately noticed the radio station. Christian music was playing through the speakers, and my driver was singing along as he drove. English clearly wasn't his first language, but he knew every word.

As we made our way through traffic, something unexpected happened.

Tears began to fill my eyes.

I turned my head toward the window and did my best to hide them. Nothing particularly emotional had happened. The driver wasn't preaching a sermon. He wasn't sharing his testimony. He was simply singing worship songs while doing his job. Yet somewhere in that ordinary moment, I felt God gently tapping me on the shoulder.

It was as though He was reminding me, "I'm still here. I haven't gone anywhere. I still see you."

The funny thing is that my driver wasn't having the easiest day. He managed to get lost twice on the way to the spa. When we got lost the second time, he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly, and said, "Sometimes GPS gets me in trouble."

I assured him it wasn't a problem.

But afterward I couldn't help wondering if perhaps it wasn't GPS at all. Maybe God simply wanted a few extra minutes.

A few extra minutes for a tired woman sitting in the back seat of an Uber to remember that God doesn't only meet us in our morning devotions. He doesn't only speak in church sanctuaries or during carefully planned quiet times. Sometimes He shows up in the most unexpected places, even in the back seat of a car driven by a man singing worship songs.

God Shows Up In The Ordinary

I love my routines. I love my morning coffee, my Bible, and the quiet moments before the rest of the world wakes up. Over the years, those mornings have become part of the foundation of my faith.  When life gets busy, those quiet moments are often what keep me centered.

But one thing I've learned after walking with Jesus for many years is that while routines are important, God is not limited by them.

In fact, I think one of the reasons the Uber ride affected me so deeply was because it reminded me that God doesn't wait for me to sit down with a cup of coffee and an open Bible before He speaks. He certainly meets me there, but He isn't confined to that space. He is just as present in traffic as He is in my living room, just as capable of getting my attention in the middle of a busy vacation as He is during a carefully planned quiet time.

I was reminded of that again today.

Work was busy, and I had more than enough reasons to stay at my desk through lunch. My inbox wasn't getting any smaller, and there were plenty of tasks competing for my attention. Yet throughout the morning, I felt a gentle nudge that wouldn't go away. It wasn't audible, but it was familiar. After all these years of walking with the Lord, I've learned to recognize those moments when He seems to be inviting me to step away from the noise for a little while.

The thought kept coming back: Grab your lunch and go sit in your car.

Honestly, it didn't make much sense. My car was parked several levels underground in the parking garage beneath our office building. It certainly wasn't the most inspiring place to spend a lunch break. Yet the prompting persisted, so eventually I grabbed my lunch, a bottle of water, and headed downstairs.

The moment I closed the car door behind me, everything changed. The parking garage was deep enough underground that my cell phone lost its signal completely. No notifications appeared. No emails came through. No messages buzzed for my attention. For the first time all day, there was nothing competing for my focus. Just silence.

I keep a paper Bible in my car, so I opened it while I ate my lunch. As I read, I could actually feel the tension of the day beginning to loosen its grip. Nothing dramatic happened. There wasn't a profound revelation waiting on the page. There was simply the quiet presence of God meeting me in a place I never would have chosen for myself.

As I sat there, I found myself thinking about how often God works that way. We tend to imagine that meaningful encounters with Him happen in church sanctuaries, Bible studies, and prayer rooms. Those places certainly matter, but Scripture is filled with stories of God meeting people in far less impressive settings. He met Moses in the wilderness while tending sheep. He met fishermen while they were cleaning nets. He met disciples on dusty roads and weary travelers beside wells.

God has never seemed particularly concerned with the location.

What He desires is relationship.

Perhaps that's why so many testimonies begin in such ordinary places. Someone comes to faith while driving down the road. Someone hears His voice during a walk. Someone cries out to Him from a hospital waiting room, a kitchen table, or a lonely apartment. The setting is rarely what makes the moment sacred. God's presence is.

And that is what continues to amaze me. The Creator of the universe, the One who spoke galaxies into existence, is willing to meet us in the ordinary moments of our lives. Not because the place is special, but because we are.

The Uber driver reminded me that God can show up in unexpected places. A quiet lunch break in an underground parking garage reminded me that He does it far more often than I realize.

The God of Relationship

But why does God do that?

Why does He meet us in parking garages and Uber rides and walks around the neighborhood? Why does He seem so willing to show up in the ordinary moments of our lives?  I think the answer is surprisingly simple.

He wants a relationship with us.

If you stop and think about it, imagine having someone in your life that you only spent an hour with each week. Maybe you see them every Sunday morning, exchange a few words, and then go your separate ways until the following week.

Would you really know that person?

Would they really know you?

Could you honestly call that a close relationship?

Probably not.

Relationships are built in the ordinary moments. They are built over conversations, shared experiences, quiet afternoons, unexpected phone calls, and simply doing life together. The people closest to us aren't the people we occasionally see during scheduled appointments. They're the people who share the everyday moments with us.

And isn't it interesting that God seems to operate the same way?

Sometimes I think we unconsciously treat our relationship with Him as though it were a weekly appointment. We go to church. We attend Bible study. We spend time in prayer. All of those things matter deeply, but they were never intended to be the entirety of our relationship with God.

The God of Scripture is astonishingly personal.

He doesn't simply want an hour of our attention each week. He wants to walk with us through our lives. He wants to be present in the commute, the lunch break, the difficult meeting, the vacation, the hospital waiting room, and the quiet drive home after a long day.

Only someone who desires genuine closeness shows up in those moments.

Only a parent, a spouse, a close friend, or a beloved family member becomes part of the ordinary details of your life. Casual acquaintances rarely know what your lunch break looks like. They don't know what weighs on your mind during your commute or what keeps you awake at night.

But the people closest to you do.

And God does.

The Creator of the universe isn't primarily interested in what He can get from us. He isn't sitting in heaven anxiously counting church attendance, tallying accomplishments, or measuring spiritual performance. If Christianity were merely about performance, then the people who looked the most religious would have been the people Jesus praised most often.

Instead, Jesus continually invited people into relationship.

He ate meals with them.

He walked with them.

He traveled with them.

He listened to them.

Again and again, we see a God who is less interested in creating impressive followers and more interested in drawing close to His children.

Perhaps that's why He meets us in the ordinary moments.

Not because those moments are impressive, but because they are where our lives actually happen.

And if God truly desires relationship with us, then it makes perfect sense that He would choose to meet us there.